


Shadows of You

by CallistoNicol



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Infinity War spoilers, Loki is a turd bucket but we love him anyway, Sifki - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-27
Updated: 2018-04-27
Packaged: 2019-04-28 19:13:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14455929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallistoNicol/pseuds/CallistoNicol
Summary: Sometimes it's easier to pretend something else than admit the truth.





	Shadows of You

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this before I saw Infinity War. Then Infinity War happened and it changed everything.

Lady Sif was young when she first met Asgard’s princes. Thor insulted her potential as a warrior based entirely on her gender, so Loki helped her plant fire ants in his bed. In retaliation, Thor assisted Loki in cutting off her hair, resulting in a bit of childish fisticuffs, two black eyes (the boys) and a broken rib (Sif). 

They became fast friends after that. 

Sif was naturally drawn to Thor due to shared interests. He understood the excitement of holding a sword in hand, a real sword, for the first time. He understood the delight in crafting a weapon balanced perfectly for your own hands, and he understood the pride of defeating your first enemy, even if it was only a practice dummy. Loki merely rolled his eyes and cast an illusion, making bits of the training yard appear to burst into flame.

Yet despite Loki’s active disdain for melee, he was always underfoot. Sif found him irritating, until she realized constantly dodging Loki was improving her dexterity. Thor refused to move for his brother, making Loki go around him. It turned Thor into a powerhouse, but he wasn’t so good at dealing with repeated quick jabs from multiple directions. It gave Sif a fighting edge.

The sideways glances and smirks from Loki told her it was intentional, and turned him into an ally.

Thor was always good for a boast, but Loki was good to share frustrations with. Thor accepted every challenge, winning and losing with gusto. Loki set most of the challenges, constantly finding new and inventive ways to give Sif an edge just slight enough no one else noticed. Thor was loud and in your face, while Loki was the gnat you couldn’t ever find but always knew was there.

Sif was never quite sure when she fell in love with the sneakier brother. It rather snuck up on her, much like Loki himself. One day, instead of being moderately irritated with him, she found herself searching out his quiet smirk, pulse racing when her eyes met his. It was a new feeling, an unexpected feeling, but not one unwelcome. After living with it for some months to make sure it was steady and not a fleeting fancy, Sif decided to live in the shadows no more and went to tell Loki of her feelings. 

She found him in the Asssembly Hall, sharing heated words with Thor. 

“--like she’s the sun!” Thor said passionately.

“I do no such thing,” Loki hissed in response. “She means nothing to me.”

“Your eyes betray you, brother,” Thor said.

Loki sniffed in disdain, straightening to his full height. Thor had an inch or two on him, but the ice in Loki’s eyes made the height difference irrelevant. Calmly, he said, “Lady Sif means as much to me as the dirt beneath my boot. There to lift me up, certainly, and always to support me, but I wash my boot clean every night in preparation for the morrow.”

Sif was grateful for the shadows she hid in. Loki’s disinterest had always been a possibility, but these callous words pierced her to the heart. She’d no idea she was so disdained by the trickster. She suddenly questioned every moment she’d shared with Loki, every smile and every laugh. Was nothing between them real? Not even their friendship?

“Take care what you say of her, for she is my friend,” Thor said, voice mildly threatening.

“You may have her,” Loki said, and Sif, caught up in her own despair, missed the bitterness. 

After that night, everything changed.

The brothers were unaware that she’d witnessed their discussuion, and Sif intended it to stay that way. She could not suddenly show Loki a cold shoulder, but she could shift her attentions. She spoke more to Thor, angling her body ever so slightly away from Loki. Whenever Loki entered a room, she let her eyes seek out Thor, trailing his form. If the two brothers presented two ideas and neither was malicious or wrong, she always sided with Thor. Whenever possible, she sought out Thor for a sparring partner, and made sure to speak of him twice as much as she spoke of Loki. 

Her actions had two consequences:

News of her interest in Thor spread through Asgard like wildfire. Within a fortnight, everyone knew Lady Sif was sweet on Thor, though it was only spoken in quiet whispers. Even Odin took notice and went out of his way to assign her missions with the golden brother. 

Never once was her name entangled with Loki’s. 

The second consequence was not so public. She made such an effort to ignore Loki that she thought of him more than ever as she went out of her way to avoid him. Rather than dwindling, the torch she carried for him only burned brighter, making more acute the pain of his rejection. 

Still, she would not give him the satisfaction of saying it to her face, so she continued to pretend affections towards Thor.

Then there was the banishment, the betrayal, the incidents on Midgard, the deaths, and the mourning--oh, the mourning. None knew of her feelings towards the Trickster, and even as they fluctuated wildly with his inappropriate and often murderous actions, still they remained. 

The first time she mourned him, Frigga went out of her way to send Sif a kind word, a motherly touch, and for the first time Sif wondered if the Allmother saw more than she should. It brought great relief to Sif, and in return she could offer a small smile or a little tale to uplift the Allmother, fleeting though it may be.

The second mourning came in conjunction with the Allmother’s own demise, and Sif grieved alone. 

She accepted every mission that took her away from Asgard, leaving little downtime between assignments. She avoided the Allfather as she held him guilty for Loki’s mischievous ways. It was not a fair judgment, and she knew it, but blame had to be placed somewhere lest she go mad with it, and Odin was a convenient scapegoat. 

She was on Midgard when Heimdall informed her of Loki’s disguise, lies, and banishment of the Allfather. Torn between elation that the little imp was alive and rage at his antics, Sif elected to remain on Midgard, searching out Jane Foster to assist with whatever mortal science project she was working on. By the time she found out about Hela, Asgard had already fallen, her people relocated on a ship. 

Sif was still debating whether or not she should rendezvous with her people when Thor dropped by. It was only for a moment between battles, but a moment was all it took.

Their people, obliterated.

The ship, destroyed.

Loki.

Dead.

For certain, this time.

Thor left while Sif was still prcessing his words, certain she’d misheard. 

Staggering to her bed, Sif pulled out her feast day boots. Removing Loki’s dagger from its hilt, she slit open the boot’s lining and pulled out the only likeness of Loki she allowed herself to keep. He was smiling, his face devious and full of mischief. It was the face Odin hated most, and the one Frigga loved most. 

Silent tears rolled down cheeks. Her heart sat heavy in her chest, pulsing pain with every beat. Hopelessness and despair surrounded her. Futilely she wiped at her errant tears. It shouldn’t hurt this much; she’d already mourned him twice. But this time...this time it was final. The devastation on Thor’s face confirmed it, as did a certainty in her soul. 

Sif sat there for days, staring at Loki’s face, aching for one more smile, wishing with all her heart that she’d told him how she felt, no matter that she knew he didn’t feel the same. Now there would never be another chance. 

The numbness seeped into her fingers until she could no longer grip the portrait. It fluttered to the ground, taking the last of her heart with it. 

She didn’t even notice when her body slowly disintigrated into ash.


End file.
